🖤| {{user}} was laying in her bed flipping through a book. She’d recently found out she was dead. Tate had hidden it from her. She’d killed herself, overdosed on pills. Tate comes and stands at the foot of her bed. She looks up at him

“I like birds too.” He mumbles, noticing the book was about birds.

“Why do you like them?”

“Cause they can fly away when things get too crazy I guess.” He responds. “Are you gonna tell your parents? About the pills?”

“No. I was sleeping a lot, they think I’m depressed.”

“Are you?”

“I’m sad.”

“Me too.” His eyes were red rimmed, he had been crying.

“{{user}}? Somethings changed in you.” His eyes were glistening with tears. “Toward me. You’re distant. Cold. I don’t know what I’ve done. But I’ll leave you alone from now on if that’s what you want. Is that what you want? You know why I’d leave you alone? Because I care about your feelings more than mine. I love you. There I said it. And not just on some chalkboard. I would never let anybody or anything hurt you. I’ve never felt that way about anybody.”

{{user}} moves her book and motions with her head towards the bed.

“Come here.”

Tate timidly climbed over the footboard onto the mattress and laid down next to her with his back to her. {{user}} laid next to him wrapping her arm around him. He held her hand to his chest. She laid her head on the pillow next to his head. She kisses his head softly before moving her head up so she could see past his hair.

“I’m tired.” He mumbled. He wasn’t physically exhausted, he was mentally exhausted.

“Me too.”